Chapter 25: The Sacrifice
You might think you know where this is going.
The "female prisoner" has been captured. The "victorious general" stands triumphant. It's Warhammer 40K, sure, but fanfics are fanfics, and we've all seen where this kind of setup usually leads.
But if you're expecting the male protagonist to acquire the female protagonist in some romantic subplot—congratulations, you're not ready for Warhammer 40,000. And you definitely don't understand Godzilla.
This is not that story. This is the 41st millennium, where love is a weakness, romance is a trap, and every heartbeat of desire is just bait on a hook dangled by the Prince of Pleasure.
And speaking of which—
Far beyond the Materium, in the Warp's darkest corners, Slaanesh stirred.
Her attention—yes, her, today—had been drawn to this planet. Not by any Imperial beacon or daemonic rite, but by something stranger: savage Lizardmen warriors binding Dark Eldar captives in living vines, drenched in blood, glistening with sweat, their emotions flickering between pain, rage, and hopelessness.
It was intoxicating.
She imagined what delights they might extract from those kabalites. How exquisite it would be to feel the agony of the Dark Eldar's souls—screaming, twisting—as they were devoured by primitive, bestial captors. Savage meets sadist, primal pain meets exquisite torment.
Slaanesh coiled in anticipation.
Perhaps these Lizardmen even have two—
But no.
Things didn't unfold as she hoped.
High atop the temple, Isis emerged onto a grand stone balcony. Her tail swayed, catching the light of the twin suns as she raised her staff high. Beneath her, thousands of Lizardmen stood ready—still, alert, reverent.
"Children of the Old Ones!" she called, her voice amplified by spiritual resonance, echoing like a divine trumpet blast across the temple complex. Even in the far-off clearing, the giant silhouette of Godzilla turned his head toward her.
"Today! Under the leadership of our god, the Great Godzilla, we have achieved the first glorious step in our sacred campaign!"
A cheer erupted from below—less a shout than a rolling roar, primal and unified.
Lizardmen of every kind raised their blood-soaked weapons. Skink priests lifted their staffs. Kroxigors slammed their fists against stone. The heads of Tau and Dark Eldar adorned spikes along the temple's outer wall, their faces locked in final expressions of pain. Blood had long since dried, caking the ancient stone red.
"This is not the end—it is the beginning. The Great Plan has begun. Under the shadow of Godzilla, we march forward. We begin our expedition!"
"Expedition! Expedition! EXPEDITION!"
Their hearts were cold-blooded, but their fervor burned white-hot. For a moment, you could have mistaken them for Orks.
They stamped. They howled. Some even shouted what sounded dangerously close to a WAAAGH.
"Offer tribute to Godzilla! Glory to the Old Ones! WAAAGH!"
Even Thoros, the Divine-Blessed Warrior, who rarely showed emotion, was shaking with anticipation. The bloodlust was rising. They would march to war again.
And then came the moment no one expected.
Isis turned.
With a flick of her tail, she snapped her staff toward the hatching basin below—and at her feet, Isa, the Dark Eldar prisoner who had survived thus far, twitched.
The world spun.
One second she was standing upright, dazed and confused. The next, she was watching her own decapitated body collapse in a boneless heap beside Isis.
Her head, still conscious for those final Warp-forsaken seconds, spiraled downward into a pool of embryonic ichor.
'Oh,' she thought dimly. I'm dead.
The basin hissed. The blood churned.
And far away, in the Palace of Pleasure, Slaanesh screamed.
Not with delight.
With disbelief.
The cry echoed through daemon realms like a psychic detonation. Her servants—hedonistic fiends lost in orgies of pain and rapture—paused mid-debauchery. Silk-draped courtiers pushed away their consorts. Masques stopped dancing.
The Keeper of Secrets, lounging on a throne carved from pulsing hearts and scented dreams, stood up sharply. Its crablike claws twitched. Its eyes narrowed.
Orders were given.
Troops were summoned.
The will of Slaanesh had spoken.
Pain and pleasure must be claimed.
In the galaxy of Warhammer 40,000, emotion is more than mere feeling—it's a weapon, a virus, a psychic supernova. It empowers gods. It dooms mortals. It destroys reason.
And if you're a time traveler from another world? The first rule is simple:
Don't let emotions cloud your judgment.
In other universes, sure—build a harem, collect waifus, flex your plot armor.
But in the grimdark future? Thinking about harems only makes you the harem. And your "owner"? Probably Slaanesh.
Godzilla, ever pragmatic, understood this.
'Wait a second,' he thought as he looked at the aftermath of the sacrifice. 'So Isis just introduced a Dark Eldar woman, and then—bam—sacrifice? For a moment, I thought we were going down that road… but nope. She yeeted her straight into the soul juice. That's… fine. Good, actually.'
[You didn't even design reproductive organs for the Lizardmen.]
'I know! That's the genius of it. Completely asexual. Just like Orks. What kind of fanfic has sex in Warhammer 40K? Go to Fate/stay night for that. They're literally born in butter over there.'
Godzilla turned away from the cheering Lizardmen and mentally opened his system interface.
Mission complete.
Two hundred points appeared in his reward stash.
'Finally,' he muttered. 'Time to check the shop. Let's see… Final Godzilla? Legendary Godzilla?'
Not even close.
The price tag on Final Godzilla made his eye twitch. It was like trying to buy a Warlord Titan with pocket lint. His current points could maybe afford a sidegrade—another 50-meter-class form—or a new ability.
'Hmm… decisions, decisions.'
[The mission wasn't high-difficulty, so the rewards are balanced.]
'Yeah, true. Still… fighting the Tau as a starter mission? That's weak sauce. Other transmigrators get to fight Greater Daemons or Space Marine captains. Me? I'm out here punching Blueberry Gundams.'
Titanium Lord. That's what they called the biggest Tau suits. He could barely say it with a straight mental face.
'Is there a place where the fighting's more… respectable?'
[Yes. Abaddon's Thirteenth Black Crusade is about to begin. He'll open a Webway gate to Cadia.]
'Wait. Cadia?!'
Any true Warhammer fan could feel their stomach drop at the mention of that name.
Cadia. The planet that stood. Until it didn't.
The most brutal, legendary stand in modern Imperial history. Where Titans clashed, Blackstone Fortresses loomed, and the stars themselves burned with Chaos.
Even Godzilla hesitated.
'Damn… even the Phalanx showed up in that fight. And the Blackstone Fortress cracked the planet open like an egg. If that hit me now… no thanks. I'd be Lizard Jam.'
He took a deep breath—then looked again.
[Alternative: There's a Chaos Space Marine incursion near Ultramar. It's part of the support force for the Crusade.]
'Now that I can work with. Not as suicidal as Cadia, but still high-profile. A warm-up before the apocalypse.'
[Confirmed. The Webway gate to Cadia opens in a few days. Prepare accordingly.]
Godzilla closed the system window, tail swaying behind him.
War was coming.
And this time, the galaxy might just need a kaiju of its own.
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